


Operation: Fined To Death

by mantisbelle



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Comedy, Gen, red team shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:54:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22437496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mantisbelle/pseuds/mantisbelle
Summary: Or: That One Time Red Team Started A Home Owner's Association
Comments: 15
Kudos: 27





	Operation: Fined To Death

A move to a new set of bases was a perfect opportunity, Sarge thought as he looked out at the brand new canyon that they had been assigned to. It was the perfect chance for Red Team to set a foothold in Valhalla before Blue Team could even  _ begin _ get a chance to . All he had to do was come up with the perfect plan that he could use to make it happen.

He stood on the balcony on Red Base and stared across the new canyon at Blue Base. He hated seeing it, with it’s filthy blue flags and it’s disgustingly blue decorations.

It was then that the  _ perfect  _ idea struck him. 

It was an idea so  _ brilliant _ that he didn’t know how he’d never considered it before.

He had to find two of his best men for the job, though. It couldn’t be Grif or Lopez, though. Neither were detail-oriented or petty enough to even qualify.

Only Simmons and Donut would do.

* * *

Three hours later exactly, he had a meeting with the two best men for the job possible set up.

The fact that the meeting also happened to be at the same time as one of Donut’s many Wine and Cheese hours had nothing to do with the ease of how the meeting had been arranged. All he’d had to do was send Lopez and Grif on a shopping trip to get more  _ exotic _ cheeses, specifically Warthog Cheese, and then he had his two men that he needed. 

Worst case scenario, they would see Lopez and Grif in a week when the cheese that they were searching for turned out to simply not exist. 

“Now that we’ve got them out of here,” Sarge started up, standing and puffing out his chest with some bravado. “I’ve got the perfect plan for running the Blues out of this canyon once and for all!”

Simmons shifted awkwardly, his glass already half-drained in front of him. Like he’d been expecting something bad, what a silly boy. “Sir,” Simmons spoke up. “Is there a reason that you  _ needed  _ half of our team gone if it’s a plan for the  _ team _ ?”

“Of course there is!” Sarge scoffed. “Those two could never manage the importance of the job that I am about to bestow upon the two of you!”

“Oh!” Donut perked up, excitement clearly already thrumming through his body. “A  _ secret _ job?”

“Very!” Sarge exclaimed. “I need the two of you to form a Home Owner’s Association!”

Simmons blinked at stared at him. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Oh!” Donut chirped. “Those are always wonderful ideas!”

“I know!” Sarge called out. “I don’t know why we never bothered with one back in Blood Gulch!” 

Simmons blinked again, clearly befuddled by the idea. Perhaps Lopez  _ would _ have been the better choice for the job, but Sarge was certain. It  _ had  _ to be Simmons and Donut. There was simply no better duo for the mission. 

“But sir,” Simmons spoke up. “Aren’t Home Owner’s Associations  _ historically _ a bad idea?”

“Nonsense!” Sarge called out. Nothing would shake him from the mission he was sure  _ needed _ to happen. It was perhaps his best plan yet for running out the Blues.

“They keep the neighborhood looking nice!” Donut exclaimed, excitedly. “It’s important work! And nobody’s ever abused the power of a Home Owner’s Association for evil!”

Simmons however, continued to look skeptical about the manner, like the damned coward that he was. “Sir, I don’t know that I see your idea.” 

“It’s genius, Simmons!” Sarge exclaimed. “All we have to do is fine the Blues!”

“Fine… the Blues?” Simmons deadpanned, clearly unsure of what he was supposed to say. “And what happens if they choose not to pay?”

Sarge blinked. He hadn’t  _ exactly _ thought that far ahead on the matter, since he'd thought that the possibility of annoying the Blues to oblivion would be enough. He was simply a commander, choosing to delegate an important task to his men so that they could come up with the important details of the job! 

“You annoy them!” Sarge called out. “Daily! Until they have no choice, or they choose to leave!” 

Donut nodded along, already having begun to scribble down notes on a napkin. Of course, there was a fair amount of doodling to the side, but Sarge was sure that he was already coming up with the most ingenious plan possible. 

Goddamn, if he wasn’t proud of his boys. 

“I want to see plans soon.” Sarge spoke up, reaching for the plate of cheese in the center of the table so that he could accumulate a few cubes of Monterey Jack for himself. “The sooner we get to it the better!”

Donut grinned wide. “We’ll get Blue Base looking acceptable in no time, Sir!”

“Good, Donut.” Sarge said, giving the boy a pat on the shoulder. “I always knew that I could trust in you!”

Simmons squirmed uncomfortably. “And what did you want me to do again, sir?”

“Simple, Simmons.” Sarge scooped up a fistful of cheese. “I want you to decide the fines! Nobody has a talent for annoying bureaucracy like you! I want to see the Blues absolutely broke by the end of the week!”

Simmons frowned. “And I’m guessing you don’t want Grif or Lopez knowing about it?”

“Not yet.” Sarge mumbled. He’d have to find a way to get the other two members of his team to fit in somehow. Perhaps he could get them to bait the Blues into fineable offenses. 

He’d figure it out.

Donut grinned wide though, and based on the slightest movements of his shoulders he was probably kicking his feet just under the table. “We’ve got it handled, Sarge!”

“I trust you do, Donut.” Sarge said, feeling a surge of pride well up in his chest over just how damned good his men were. 

Donut still smiled up at him though. “You can take some cheese for the road!”

With the invitation there, what choice did Sarge have but to take the rest of the Monterey Jack for himself?

* * *

Tucker was just minding his own fucking business at the rock that he had claimed for himself in the new canyon when Simmons of all people showed up, on the wrong side of Blue Team territory. 

“Uh, hey Tucker.” Simmons said, standing up tall and awkward like fucking always. Honestly, what the fuck was up with the guy? “I needed to talk to you!”

Tucker squinted at him from behind his own helmet. He looked back at his rock, sighed, and stood up before approaching Simmons so that they could talk about whatever stupid Red Team bullshit they wanted to talk about. 

“What do you want?”

“Well, as a representative of Red Team—” Simmons began. “I am here to inform you that your rock is an eyesore.” 

“What the actual fuck are you talking about dude?”

“The graffiti!” Simmons gestured wildly towards the rock. “It’s so  _ unsightly _ !”

“Can you guys even see it from Red Base?” Tucker asked, since everything that Simmons was talking distinctly sounded exactly like complete bullshit. “Because I’m pretty sure it shouldn’t fucking matter since you can’t see it.” 

Simmons scoffed. “Tucker, it’s the  _ principle _ of it.” He explained. “I’m here on behalf of the Valhalla Better Canyon Initiative. We’re trying to make the canyon a nicer place to live in—”

“Are you seriously trying to fucking gentrify a box canyon in the middle of nowhere?”

“Absolutely not!” Simmons practically started screeching. “Your rock is ugly!”

Tucker rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to do anything to get rid of it.” He muttered to Simmons. “This is the only fucking place where I know everyone else on my shitty team will leave me alone.” 

Simmons seemed to freeze up all at once, like he suddenly didn’t know what he wanted to say at that point. In fact, the way that he was looking at the rock almost made it seem like Simmons was considering it in a whole new light. The kind that might be enough to make Simmons finally leave Tucker the fuck alone so he could do whatever he wanted. 

“Yeah, well—” Simmons shifted awkwardly. “Your refusal to do anything to make it look better means that I have no choice but to fine you.” 

“Wait, what—”

“It'll be one hundred and fifty dollars, and then an additional fifty dollar fine for every day until you pay.” 

Tucker blinked. “Dude, I’m pretty sure that between all of Blue Team we can’t afford 150 dollars.” 

“Then it seems you have no choice to make it better!” Simmons screeched. “You have three days!”

And then just like that, Simmons was back off in the direction of Red Base and Tucker had absolutely zero idea what had just happened. When he returned to Blue Base that evening, a note denoting that Tucker and Blue Team by extension owed money was taped to the door in what Tucker assumed was Simmons’ usual passive-aggressive communication style. 

It was fucking weird. 

Tucker threw the note out, since he had bigger things to deal with on his own team anyways. 

* * *

Donut was sure to get up bright and early so that he could enact phase two of Sarge’s plan. It was so good that the Blues wouldn’t even know what hit them! All he had to do do was get over to Blue Base and make sure that it looked amazing. 

Because if he didn’t, they’d have to get fined! 

And considering what he was doing, there were other charges to consider too.

Maybe it was the best plan that Red Team had ever come up with.

An hour after waking, Donut had a basket of supplies ready to go, and he headed over toward Blue Base. It didn’t  _ look  _ like anyone was up yet, and if anything this was going to be a case of him doing them a  _ favor _ . He walked across the valley to Blue Base and looked up at it, a thousand ideas sticking in his mind about what he could to make the place so much better than it was. 

Of course it could use a new coat of paint. Maybe he'd tell Sarge about that. 

Maybe once he was done. 

Donut found a nice clump of dirt outside of Blue Base at put himself to work, first by pulling weeds and tossing them into a little pile off to the side. He tore up the soil and got to work on planting flowers that would soon bloom and make Blue Base look a thousand times better than it ever had before. 

He was wrist-deep in dirt and trying plant something when Caboose came outside. 

“Hello!” Caboose greeted him cheerily. “What are you doing here Captain Cruller?”

Donut let out a little breath and sat up on his heels before looking up to the Blue, who was in full armor but looking as cheery as he always did. 

“I’m working on the Valhalla Canyon Beautification Initiative!” Donut explained as he looked down at the garden that he was working on planting. “The Home Owner’s Association decided that Blue Base isn’t really up to snuff. I know that's not all on top of you, but someone has to do something! And I don’t intend to lay around like a starfish and let this get worse than it is!”

Caboose cocked his head to the side in confusion. “Ah, well.” He began, “We don’t really own the base.” 

Donut was taken aback. “But it’s Blue Base!”

Caboose shrugged. “I mean, yeah. But they gave it to us.” He paused. “I don’t think stupid Tucker remembers to pay taxes. So I don’t think we own it.” 

“You’re behind on your  _ taxes? _ ” Donut gasped. “Well that just won’t do!”

He stood up and looked down at his garden. Maybe he’d remember to bring out a sprinkler later so that it would stay watered. He had a feeling that Blue Team wouldn’t really bother to water the flowers if they couldn’t even bother to do their taxes.

Caboose nodded along. “Yeah. I figured Tucker would do them because I hate taxes, but I don’t think he pays them.” Caboose paused, like he’d figured something bout Donut didn’t really know what it was. “Do taxes pay for the Valley Prettification Project?”

“They would have!” Donut exclaimed. “But since you don’t pay your taxes, I’ll have to send you a private invoice! The Home Owner’s Association isn’t going to be happy about this!” 

“Oh, well, I’m sure we’ll be able to make Blue Base prettier. It already looks like you’re doing a good job at it.” 

Donut let out a surprised gasp. “But that’s now how it’s supposed to be! You’re supposed to do it yourself!” 

Caboose let out a little hum. “I’ll help!” He said. “What can I do to help!”

Donut stood up straight, hands on his hips. “You can start by paying your invoice and your dues with the Home Owner’s Association!”

“I’ll get stupid Tucker to do that.” Caboose said blithely. 

“That’ll do!” Donut squawked as he knelt back down next to the flower patch. He had work to do, all for the betterment of Red Team. 

* * *

Sarge was in the middle of taking apart his newest invention when Tucker charged past the perimeter around Red Base, clearly livid and waving some sort of paper in his hand. Sarge spared him a single glance and then went back to work. He needed to be able to finish this project, since it was the backup plan for if Operation: Fined To Death somehow managed to fail. 

Based on what he’d heard from Simmons and Donut, it was turning out to be a real bang-up job of a plan too. A true winner.

“Sarge!” Tucker shouted at him, still only halfway in armor. Like he’d seen the bill that he’d been sent and had been so angry that he couldn’t help coming into Red territory unprotected. “What the hell is this?”

Sarge sat up and looked up at Tucker from where he was sitting on the ground, seemingly random mechanical pieces strewn out in front of him. “What brings you here?” He asked, sure to put on a facade as though he had absolutely no idea what was going on in that moment. Of course it was obvious enough that Red Team was behind the Home Owner’s Association. 

But there was so much more to it than that. 

Tucker didn’t know that in part, Sarge's mission was  _ completely genuine. _

“What the hell is this?” Tucker squawked, all but shoving the letter in Sarge’s face. Sarge recognized it immediately. It was the phony dues notification that he’d had Simmons write up the night before. 

Sarge sat up straight. “Well, that’s a dues notice.” He said. “It’s not my fault if you haven’t paid to join the Home Owner’s Association. Everyone here is supposed to.” 

“This is such bullshit.” 

Sarge stood up himself, since he had a feeling that this was a conversation he would have preferred to be on his feet for anyways. “We just want to make the canyon a nicer place, is that so much to ask for? If we're going to live here is it wrong to want it to be nice?” 

“There's a _ten thousand_ _dollar_ bill on here for gardening services!” Tucker shouted. “We never hired a gardener!” 

And goddamnit, Sarge couldn’t really  _ deny _ that was the truth of the matter. That had been the whole point of sending Donut to them in the first place!

He eyed the bill, even reached out to take it so that he could go over the exact same ridiculous charges that he’d instructed Simmons to put on it the night before. Sure enough, there towards the bottom of the page there was an item listing a ten thousand dollar gardening charge. 

Sarge looked back up at Tucker. “I don’t know, it seems pretty correct to me!”

“Bullshit!” Tucker got up close to Sarge. “Why are you even doing this?”

“Because the canyon looks bad!”

Tucker’s entire body seemed to tense up at once, as he tried to collect himself for shouting or whatever it was that he was about to do. In a weird way, Sarge almost wished that it had been Caboose coming along to discuss the bill because if that had been the case it would have already been paid. 

But Tucker didn’t  _ leave. _ He didn’t look to change Sarge’s mind either. 

Instead he just snatched the printed bill out of Sarge’s hand and squeezed the paper into a crumpled mess before throwing it directly at Sarge’s head. It flew just off to the left of his face, which was a damn shame because Sarge knew that if it had been Donut it would have hit dead center. 

The boy  _ was _ really gifted when it came to tossing. 

“We're not paying for this.” Tucker grumbled. “Because for one, I can’t remember the last time that  _ anyone _ in this fucking canyon got a paycheck!”

Sarge supposed that was a good point. Maybe ten thousand dollars for a gardener was a little too much to charge. 

Maybe he should have listened to Simmons and knocked off one of the zeroes. Maybe that would have made for a more believable bill. 

But he just stood his ground. “Crumpling up the bill won’t make the debt go away.” 

“Yeah, it will.” Tucker growled, pushing himself straight into Sarge’s space. “And I know that it will, because I know just as well as you do that this is all complete bullshit. I mean, this is one of your schemes, isn’t it?”

“I never said that!” Sarge said. “Just that the canyon could look better!”

“Yeah, because you hate the color blue and everything associated with it.” Tucker scoffed. “Look, we’re not paying. It’s not like we can afford it anyways.” 

Sarge let out a little noise, not sure how else to respond. “Well, I can tell you that the Valley Improvement Project isn’t going anywhere!” He all but shouted at Tucker’s swiftly retreating form as the other man began to walk away from him. “And neither is the Home Owner’s Association!” He shouted louder, hopeful that he wouldn’t be able to ignored at that point. 

The message was clearly received though, based on how Tucker turned back towards Sarge so that he was walking backwards, raised a pair of middle fingers at him and screamed back at him. 

“Fuck you Sarge!” 

Sarge just grinned and waved back in Tucker’s direction. “Have a nice day!” 

“You need more than two homes to have a Home Owner’s Association!” Tucker screamed back. 

“You too!” Sarge replied, uncaring as to what Tucker had said.

It definitely wasn’t going to be the last that they heard from Blue Team, Sarge was sure of that, but at least he could know that he’d left an impression. 

They were under Tucker’s skin. Psychological warfare at its absolute finest!

There was no way that they could fail!

* * *

The absolute last fucking thing that Tucker needed was another one of the  _ fucking Reds _ hanging out outside of Blue Base first thing in the morning. If there was a Red out there, then it was a matter of time before he got a bill for some sort of bullshit like not watering the nonexistent lawn  _ that the reds barely had either. _

He grit his teeth and donned his armor, shooting looks to the Warthog that was sitting outside. 

He hoped that Caboose wasn’t the one dealing with it. That’s how the gardening bill happened, it turned out. 

When he went outside what he found was Grif of all people, sitting on the ground next to the warthog and enjoying the shade while he could. 

Tucker paused. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Here in peace, dude.” Grif said, pushing himself up to his feet. “Since it seems like you’re about as fed up with this bullshit as I am.” 

Tucker was almost immediately taken aback by what Grif was suggesting. Tucker guessed that  _ maybe _ Sarge enacting some sort of plan without all of Red Team involved wouldn’t be too out of the ordinary if Lopez’s existence was any sort of indicator. So maybe it shouldn’t have been such a surprise that Grif might not be involved. 

But still he had to be wary. The Reds  _ loved _ underhanded shit.

“So what are you here for?” Tucker asked. “Were you told to sit out here and make it look like we had people loitering or something?”

“Nah.” Grif replied. “My visit is dual purposed.” 

“This oughta be good.” 

“By being here, I get to avoid being involved,  _ and _ I get to avoid drills.” Grif explained, leaning back against the Warthog once more and crossing his arms over his chest. “So I consider it win/win.”

And yeah, that definitely  _ sounded _ like Grif. Maybe his visit  _ was  _ legit. 

“So what are you offering?” Tucker asked. “If you’re here to try and stop this shit.” 

Grif shrugged. “I mean, you want them to stop, the solution is pretty simple.” 

And yeah, Grif  _ was _ probably right about that. That didn’t really mean that Tucker actually wanted to have to go through what it would probably mean. 

On the other hand, he  _ did _ have Caboose, and he could probably get Caboose to go along with it. 

Tucker grumbled. “I don’t want to do another one of those stupid surrender things.” He muttered. “I mean, fuck, what are we even fighting over anymore?”

“Don’t fucking ask me.” Grif mumbled, just as annoyed with the situation as Tucker was. “As far as I’m concerned, it’s just stupid bullshit that people do because it can help pass the time.” 

And yeah, Grif  _ definitely _ had a point. That did seem to be the only reason did anything around their little canyons anymore. They just never had fuck all to do unless Tex was around to begin with, and she was dead anyways. Maybe it wasn’t such a surprise that the Reds were getting bored and Sarge was trying to make shit happen again, even if he’d chosen the most bullshit way of doing it. 

Tucker let out a sigh. “You think if I do a surrender, Sarge will drop it?”

“Probably.” Grif shrugged. “Usually a good surrender gets him to shut up for a few weeks at least. And maybe if you surrender shit at Red Base gets a little less annoying too. I don’t think I can deal with Simmons asking me how much to charge for bullshit lawn care services anymore. And I think Lopez is about fifteen minutes from dismantling our microwave at any given moment, so I’ve got a personal stake in this.” 

And yeah, of  _ course _ he did. 

Tucker considered. “Think it would work if I got Caboose to do it?”

“Nah.” Grif answered. “It’s going to have to be you probably. Since you’re the leader now or whatever.” 

And goddamnit, as much as Tucker  _ really _ didn’t want to have to admit it, Grif was right. Grif was so right that it made him sick, and angry, and a lot of other things. 

Tucker let out a  _ very _ heavy sigh and looked Grif directly in the visor. 

“Set the meeting up.” He said, resigned to his fate. “Might as well get this shit over with.”

“Yeah.” Grif answered him, already moving to climb into the Warthog so that he could head back across the canyon to Red Base. “That’s the spirit.”

“Fuck off.”

“See you soon.” Grif answered, and then just like that the only thing Tucker was left with was the sound of the stupid mexican polka music that had blasted from the Warthog’s speakers as Grif drove away. 

* * *

“A surrender?!” Sarge exclaimed at the news. “The Blues are offering us a surrender!”

Grif rolled his eyes as the rest of his teammates watched on, more or less quiet. “Yeah.” He answered Sarge. “That’s what I said.”

“It must be Christmas in July!” Sarge said, clearly ecstatic about the news.

Simmons squirmed in his seat. “Actually sir, it’s April.” 

Sarge stopped dead in his track. “Then why is there still mistletoe in the kitchen?” He asked, which was only met with a snicker from Donut. 

And yeah, Grif had personally been working pretty damn hard to ignore that shit since he  _ knew _ that it was some sort of elaborate trap. Either that or they were getting really lazy about taking down holiday decorations. 

Not that it mattered since Christmas for Red Team was mostly just an excuse to shuffle the chore wheel and drink. And not work. Grif  _ really _ liked that part.

“Never mind that.” Simmons spoke up. “You’re  _ sure _ that they offered a surrender?” 

“Yeah.” Grif answered, even though he and Tucker hadn’t  _ really _ talked about it all that much. “Same time and place as always.” 

Sarge grinned wide. “I’ll wear my good armor!” He said. “Since this is such a special occasion.” 

“Sir—” Donut interjected. “You can’t just  _ put on a tie with your armor _ .” He protested. “You should at least wear a blazer!”

Grif snorted. “Like any of us can afford blazers.” 

“I have a blazer!” Simmons protested. 

“Yeah.” Grif grumbled. “Because you’re a nerd.” 

Simmons sputtered in protest, just as Grif left the room secure with the knowledge that all of the Home Owner’s Association bullshit was about to finally come to a stop, and he could stop getting ordered to move into Blue Base to trash it, and his life could go back to normal. 

He just had to wait for the goddamn meeting with the Blues the next day. 

Maybe if he got lucky Sarge would be in such a good mood from the surrender that there would be a cookout after. 

_ That _ would actually be able to balance all of the bullshit out in Grif’s mind to zero.

* * *

High noon.

All of Red Team had piled themselves into the Warthog early that morning even though it didn’t necessarily have all of the room, and driven out to the middle of the canyon so that they could meet the Blues in what was assumed to be neutral territory.

Soon, Sarge knew, Tucker and Caboose were going to show up, and then he was going to have the best gift that money couldn’t buy. And he fully intended to cherish it for as long as he could manage to, since he had no idea how long it would be before he got to see it again. 

Simmons, Donut, and Grif waited in the Warthog behind him. Simmons sat more alert than anyone else, while Grif looked  _ distinctly _ like he didn’t want to be there. Lastly there was Donut, who seemed at least a  _ little _ bit disappointed over the fact that the Valley Improvement Project was about to come to an end. 

Maybe Sarge would have to invent more chances for Donut to garden around Red Base in the near future. Perhaps they could give that idea of having a vegetable garden another go since Valhalla was able to actually grow grass at the very least. Donut would probably like that. Not to mention Simmons. 

They ended up sitting there under the hot sun for a little too long, and when Sarge was just starting to think that the Blues had either set them up or were planning some sort of ambush, the two of them started to come into view. 

It hadn’t occurred to Sarge that it was entirely possible that the two of them were just  _ running late. _

The two of them reached the clearing eventually. Tucker was carrying in his hand a torn up bill that they had sent him— probably the one with the $10,000 gardener charge. 

“Hey!” Tucker shouted to them. 

“You’re late!” Simmons shouted back, only mostly out of turn. Sarge couldn’t really argue with the frustration over it. 

“Yeah, well.” Caboose spoke up, stepping into the middle of the clearing like the rest of them with Tucker trailing shortly behind him, no doubt due to the man’s shorter legs. “We don’t have a car so we can’t just drive.”

“Yeah.” Tucker grumbled. “That. And we had to put out a fire in the kitchen again.” 

“Not my fault.” Caboose said, probably grinning behind his helmet. Sarge knew deep down that Caboose was a Red at heart. Only a Red could possess the true lust for Blue blood, and such a desire to destroy Blue property. 

In a way, Caboose might have been the reddest Red of all. 

“Well.” Grif spoke up. “Can we get this shit on the road? Because I’m as sick of this nonsense as the Blues are.” 

“Soon!” Sarge all but snapped. “There’s a process to this, Grif!”

“Yeah Grif!” Donut started. “We can’t just  _ skip _ the foreplay!” 

“Donut is correct!” Sarge confirmed. How could they even  _ consider _ skipping all of the formalities when it was going through them that made surrenders so good in the first place? He grinned and looked directly at Tucker, the only thing able to hide Sarge’s pure glee at the situation being his helmet. “Now, why don’t we get started?”

“Right!” Simmons exclaimed. “Surrender conditions are standard.” He began, flipping through a mess of paperwork which had been compiled so that there was a clear record of everything that needed to be done. “And Blue Team is surrendering on account of a lack of funds.” 

“Actually.” Tucker spoke up. “Amend that to ‘Blue Team is surrendering because it makes Red Team shut up.’” 

Simmons sucked in a breath from between his teeth. “Well, you see Tucker.” He said, tapping on the forms in front of him. They were going to need to be signed soon. “It’s a little too late to change the documentation! Our printer ran out of ink when I was halfway finished printing these.” 

“Yeah, well.” Grif rolled his eyes. “That’s what we get for Sarge building you and Lopez’s asses out of the same fax machine.” 

Tucker jerked his head back in surprise. “What?”

“Lopez’s only prints in color!” Simmons said. “Mine’s by far the more useful one—”

“Yeah, you tell yourself that.” Grif deadpanned. 

“Anyways!” Simmons all but shouted. “The conditions of surrender are laid out. Whenever everyone is ready we can get to the actual surrender ceremony.” 

Tucker let out an audible groan. “When did we start calling it a goddamn  _ ceremony?” _ He complained. “Can’t we just get this over with so I don’t have to deal with you guys for the next month?”

Simmons looked to Sarge for the confirmation that they were indeed in the clear to move on with the proceedings. 

“Get on with it!” Sarge said, feeling at least a little too much excitement over the fact that he was about to see Tucker do a surrender. 

Tucker stepped up to the middle of the clearing, and everyone else made a circle of sorts around him. There was a certain process to this, after all. 

The aqua armored man took in a deep breath and launched into the traditional surrender speech. 

“I would just like to let everyone know, that I suck, and that I'm a girl. I would also like for everyone to know that I like ribbons in my hair, and I want to kiss all the boys.” Tucker launched straight into it, and Sarge felt himself grinning so wide that his face began to hurt at the way that the entire ordeal played out in the end. 

“Thank you, Tucker.” Sarge said. “I accept your surrender.” 

“Good.” Tucker grumbled. “Can we sign the fucking paperwork now?”

“Yeah.” Sarge said, and then next thing they all knew they were crowded around the Warthog signing paperwork to set the surrender in place for a specified amount of time— a single month. The last page was the bill that Simmons had composed for Blue Team as a part of the Valley Beautification Project Scheme. 

Sarge grabbed a bright red pen, and in large letters scribbled the word WAIVED across the bill. 

And like that, peace was won for the month. 

Which meant Sarge had plenty of time to get started coming up with his next plan to defeat the Blues once and for all. Or at least to get another good old fashioned surrender out of them. 

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr](https://arynasea.tumblr.com)   
>  [Fanfiction.net](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/8354812/)   
>  [Twitter](https://twitter.com/mantisbelle)   
> 


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